Skin-cracks show surface tension
& pawn-shop rosaries paint
Wailing walls into sand.
Bibles grow through
Propaganda nails,
As she hands you a pamphlet from
"bleeding" hands.
Dust falls from coat pockets,
and warmth is only a short
Condemnation away.
[Drenched in righteous gasoline,
As you kiss this apartment-complex salvation,
To prove you’re humble]
Inhale scripted prayers
Like honey & rum
As this pier crumbles,
& crushes heart-bones
Under white-foundation
& premature gravity.
Grave-site alter,
Bread crumb audience,
Molds.
& hopes they’ve swallowed correctly.
[Placebo martyr eats lye
To prove they’re clean]
Author notes
Lye equates to lie.
And yeah.
Playing on words is ma game, homes.
In a list
A contest entry
- Playing In The Fire - 1 by Hadji Murad.
650 points, ended July 24, 2007, 6 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I like this poem a whole heck of a lot!
It touched me on so many levels.
Congrats! This is beautiful.
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told you.
yay! congrats! 
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There are no words to describe the profoundity of this poem.
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yay, you're in this too
I ADORE "Bibles grow through Propaganda nails", that's amazing. Well, I actually love the entire piece. It's so amazing. (and I predict that Nate will adore this - I'm smelling gold in here 
lol)
mhm. mhm. mhm.
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